


i'll keep the pictures saved in a safe place (wow, we look so weird here)

by stephbethallen



Series: lights and sirens [6]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medical, Art Teacher Azumane Asahi, Domestic Fluff, Elementary School Teacher Sugawara Koushi, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Injuries, Paramedic Sawamura Daichi, foreshadowed asanoya, i'll say it again: let them get married in paris, is daichi capable of a day off? in this essay i will, mentioned kuroken, shamelessly plotless, why is suga a machiavelli stan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:08:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29970981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephbethallen/pseuds/stephbethallen
Summary: “Hey.” Suga’s eyes meet his as he sits at the kitchen island, lesson plans scattered around him and pen tucked behind his ear. The soft, probably-needing-to-be-replaced lamplight over his work makes his glasses shine and his hair look closer to translucent. “Welcome home.”He’s simply ethereal. Even the worst day at work can feel so much better just by looking at him.thank god workaholic paramedic sawamura daichi has sugawara koushi.
Relationships: Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi
Series: lights and sirens [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2028268
Comments: 18
Kudos: 50





	i'll keep the pictures saved in a safe place (wow, we look so weird here)

**Author's Note:**

> hello hello, i know i had said plotless fluffy daisuga was next in this series and ?? this is fluffy! i think! it's definitely plotless at least. but there's also some angst that isn't really resolved for the sake of the longevity of the series. 
> 
> as always, i'm going to reference stuff from other works in this series, but it's probably useful to have read at least the first fic. but it might work without too! 
> 
> there's some heavy discussion of healthcare burnout here, along with a description of chemical restraint used on a patient. please tread carefully if needed. 
> 
> title comes from rex orange county's [It's Not The Same Anymore](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YMe0Fi9OzS8), and with that, please enjoy!

Asahi carefully wets his brush, examining what should go where. As a fashion design major in college those few years ago, he had a more raw, innate sense of how color and shape should work, but now that he’s tempered with age and wisdom and the sounds of his elementary-aged art students around him, even the smallest decisions needed careful deliberation. Especially because this sketch was important. 

The ridge of Suga’s nose isn’t exactly like it is in real life. The width of Daichi’s wrists is a little off. But Suga will see this watercolor sketch and smile and applaud him, then spill about eighty stories regarding the context for the situation. In this sketch, they’re sitting in the coffee shop near Suga and Asahi’s campus. Their first meeting. 

Asahi didn’t actually witness this meeting, but he could view it in his mind well enough to illustrate it accurately. He’s always been good at visualization—it worked when Daichi and Asahi played volleyball together in high school, it worked when Asahi and Suga did their assignments together in college, and it works now that he’s a teacher. His worries about what can happen play out in his mind in 4K ultra-HD. 

“Kenji-kun, please don’t run!” Asahi calls out, looking up and seeing the little boy carrying a full plate of acrylic paints. Those won’t wash out easily from his uniform if they spilled, and then his parents would be made. Tracing the little boy with his vision, he can also see one of the girls doing her favorite dangerous thing. “And Himari-chan! Please get the brush out of your mouth, okay?”

“Azumane-sensei!” Another girl from Suga’s class presents her project for the day—a neat painting of a snowman in anticipation of the storm tonight, no doubt much cleaner and more disciplined than Kenji or Himari’s will be. “His name is Snow!”

Asahi puts his glasses back on his face and makes a show of studying it for the well-behaved, slightly-anal first-grader, holding back a snort at the name choice. “Good job, Megumi-chan. I really like the way you did Snow’s arms, they’re so neatly painted. Very nicely done.” 

She positively glows. This encourages another onslaught of children, each showing Asahi their work very proudly and expecting a string of compliments from the harried art teacher. 

“Kids!” The door to the art room swings open before the class descends into chaos and Asahi’s left in tatters. Asahi’s savior has arrived. His prematurely-gray messiah. “Leave Azumane-sensei alone. He likes your snowmen very much, I assure you.” 

The first-graders fall in line at their teacher’s direction—all twenty-eight of them. 

Suga nods with approval and sends them along. “Now, go on to English. Megumi-chan’s the line leader.” 

They file out completely organized, a far cry from Asahi’s classroom management, proceeding towards their classroom.

Suga stays back, bento in hand, and takes a cleansing breath, encouraging Asahi to do the same with some gesticulation. “You doing okay?”

“Great,” Asahi breathes. “Lunch?” 

“Lunch.” Suga pulls one of the tiny chairs from the art tables to sit at Asahi’s desk, somehow still looking graceful. He pauses from pulling out the sandwich Daichi made him when he catches sight of the work on Asahi’s desk. His face lights up as he points, careful not to touch the wet paper but enthusiastic anyway. “Is that me and Daichi!?” 

Asahi laughs at his enthusiasm. “I’m not sure why you’re surprised. You two are usually the subjects of these sketches.” 

“It looks so  _ real! _ And you weren’t even there!” Suga stands up to see it better, making the tiny chair clatter back. “Wow. Wow, look at us, we look so happy.” 

“...Why’d you say it like that?” Asahi questions, wary. “What’s going on with you two?” 

“Nothing!” Suga assures, face twisted with a different emotion—strained, forced. “He just works. A lot. It wouldn’t kill him to take a day off every once and a while. You know how it is with him.” 

Asahi eyes him. “Yeah. Sure.” It was true. Asahi hasn’t even seen Daichi in a month. He’s been too busy to meet up. Whatever that meant. Asahi, on the other hand, hasn’t been doing much work at all outside of school hours, unless you counted his portraits. And the...how many are there now? Five? Five paintings of the man with the perfectly-drawable hair that he met when the fire brigade came to visit the school. He’d get his next lesson plans done soon. Right? He’d get it done. 

“Yeah.” Suga’s moved on now. “How—the coffee cup is so  _ little _ , how’d you…” 

Suga goes on raving about it, but Asahi can’t help but see the way he looks at the picture, desperate to see it come back to life somehow. 

* * *

“Lift up your shirt.” 

“ _ Chief.”  _

“Lift up your  _ goddamn _ shirt, Sawamura, and let me look at where he got you.” Ukai’s nicotine-smelling orange Litmann raises threateningly as Daichi complies. “You havin’ difficulty breathing?”

Daichi rolls his eyes.  _ “No.”  _

Ukai frowns. “Watch your tone, Captain. I’ll make you take the day off if you’re lyin’ to me.” 

Daichi straightens up quickly at that one. “Nossir.” 

“Good man.”

* * *

Suga takes the sketch with him back to his classroom after their lunch, sticking it in an envelope and putting it in his desk drawer for the rest of the day. He keeps stealing glances at it as he walks home, barely keeping in a straight line with his fingers freezing from peeking out of his jacket sleeve. As he studies the illustration, he wonders what Daichi’s up to or how his day went. He won’t be home from the station for at least another two hours. 

_ Change is good _ , Suga reminds himself, but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if things were more like they used to be. If Asahi redrew them now, what would they look like? Hopefully Daichi would be at least a shadow of the man in the sketch, younger, his eyes lit up with unbridled, naive joy. They’d have more wrinkles. Dark circles under their eyes. Scars of all sizes and forms. But their hands would still be reaching towards each other, their gazes still intersecting, and their hearts still beating in tandem, and that’s all that matters. 

* * *

Daichi pushes the door to his apartment open with his shoulder, avoiding his left side, and sets his jumpbag down with a sigh and a slight shiver as the inside heat hits him. “Hey.” 

“Hey.” Suga’s eyes meet his as he sits at the kitchen island, lesson plans scattered around him and pen tucked behind his ear. The soft, probably-needing-to-be-replaced lamplight over his work makes his glasses shine and his hair look closer to translucent. “Welcome home.” 

He’s simply ethereal. Even the worst day at work can feel so much better just by looking at him. Daichi’s got it so, so bad for that man. 

“You okay?” He slides off his stool to make his way toward the entryway, brow furrowing and hands slightly outstretched as if to somehow help.

“Yeah.” Daichi bends down to one knee to unlace his duty boots, then when it hurts his side, just decides to sit back on his ass. “Fine. Long day.” 

“I’m sorry,” Suga murmurs and bends down to sit next to him, legs crossing gracefully in a criss-cross. “You’ve been having a lot of those recently.” 

“I know. My bad,” Daichi sighs. He rolls out his ankles, now free of his tight boots, and lets himself lean ever-so-slightly against Suga. Suga did not need to carry his weight; no one deserved to do that, especially not Suga. Daichi needs to be able to hold out on his own. 

But Suga pulls him closer, snaking a hand around his waist and nudging Daichi fully against him until his head rocks over onto Suga’s shoulder and he’s barely holding himself up any longer. 

“You’re cold,” Suga winces as his arms make contact with the outside of Daichi’s jacket, with Daichi’s hands, with Daichi’s cheeks. Instead of recoiling, he pulls him in tighter. 

They sit there for a good while, with Suga occasionally rubbing Daichi’s side or lifting a hand to comb through his hair. 

“Sorry, ‘s greasy,” Daichi murmurs. He had done a lot of sweating today. He had  _ done _ a lot, and yet, not enough. 

“So’s mine, it’s the end of the day,” Suga counters, lifting Daichi’s hand to run through the fringe of his bangs. He giggles breathily when Daichi grabs a tiny lock and tugs gently on it.

Daichi keeps his hand on his head, trailing it down slowly to the undercut he had out of necessity and tracing there gently. “How was your day?” 

Suga smiles. “Ah, good. The kids were a little antsy. Apparently, we might get a snow day tomorrow.” 

“Really? I heard Hinata mention it might snow, but I thought it was just wishful thinking,” Daichi hums. 

“Nah, it’s supposed to start overnight.” Suga sighs against him, giving Daichi some warm weight to share. “I know you’re the resident snow day hater, though.” 

“I mean, I don’t  _ hate  _ snow, it’s just that there’s no such thing as snow days at the station. It means the driveway needs to be shoveled and salted and it means car wrecks and hypothermia in the  _ process  _ of car wrecks while they wait for us to get on the scene and it means people trapped in their homes while they’re having medical emergencies, so they call 119 to help ‘em out, but then  _ someone’s  _ driving the rig on the roads, y’know, and it’s top-heavy, and I just…” 

Daichi trails off, seeing how Suga’s still listening very intently to his quickly-derailing-into-morbidity rant. 

“I guess I just worry,” he finishes with a mumble. “I don’t even remember if I put the snow chains on the tires of the rigs. I mean, there’s supposed to be an automatic unit that’ll put them on, like, just by flipping a switch in the cab, but Ukai had said it was acting weird and it needed to be replaced, so someone probably had to put them on manually and it was probably supposed to be me, since I’m, y’know, the Captain—” 

“Daichi, I’m gonna stop you right there,” Suga interrupts. “Your shift is over. Your team is competent. They’ll notice if there aren’t chains on the tires.” 

Daichi wants to argue with that but he knows it would be pointless and that he doesn’t have the energy to try to disagree anyway. He’d keep worrying about it regardless. 

“Now,” Suga announces, planting a fat kiss on Daichi’s forehead. “Time to warm you up and get some food in you while you let yourself relax a bit. You’re still freezing, good Lord.” 

Daichi can’t refute that. Before he clocked out, he had just finished with an outdoor call—cyanotic drunk guy passed out on the street, chilled down to the bone quite literally—and it took all of Daichi not to take one of the multiple shock blankets they had covering the guy to put on himself. Then, he drove home in his and Suga’s new lease, but he kept the heat off because he wanted the gas mileage to be better, so. Yeah. 

Suga stands up with an exhale and holds a hand out for Daichi, who accepts it and stands with only minimal grunting. 

“Wait, why’d you just make that face?” Suga asks, suddenly urgent. 

“What face?” Though Daichi knew his face had just scrunched up—his cheek muscles burned a bit. 

“That’s either the back pain face or the I-really-gotta-shit-but-I-can’t face. Which one?” 

“I mean, my back kinda hurts, I guess. But it’s nothing.” Honestly, he hadn’t really thought about it until Suga pointed it out, since his side hurt so much more comparatively. His back was pretty much always hurting—he lifts people all day, and despite being in pretty good shape due to his weightlifting rivalry with Iwaizumi and Bokuto, it was different with real people. Iron plates? It’s okay to drop those, they don’t feel pain. People who are already hurting and are in their most vulnerable hour of need? It’s not generally accepted to drop _those_. 

“Daichi…” Suga warns. “Please don’t push this off because it’s convenient.” 

“I’m serious. It’s okay, don’t worry. I’ll...I dunno, I’ll talk to Ennoshita the next time I see him or something, he’ll give me exercises if I buy him a drink.” Daichi laughs somewhat awkwardly, knowing that won’t placate Suga much at all but trying regardless. 

“Okay. I won’t nag you about it if you’ve got it handled.” Suga seems to give up. 

Daichi shrugs, then reluctantly peels his uniform jacket off and hangs it up by the door, immediately crossing his arms to preserve heat. The reflective letters on the back fold together to make them unreadable, spelling  _ PAMIC  _ instead of  _ PARAMEDIC _ . 

There are a few beats where Suga and Daichi stand apart from one another, Suga trying to keep his distance and Daichi just shivering in the entryway, lingering, feeling too much tension to move. This has been happening a lot since Suga’s accident, where financial and social stressors pull at the fabric of their relationship, tearing at little threads to see if the whole damn thing will unravel. In these moments of tension, neither party really understands what the other is feeling and neither party wants to rock the boat after such a huge scare, for fear that they’d never recover. It’s all very dramatic. There’s a palpable disconnection that Daichi can’t name, but it makes him sorta want to cry. 

It also makes the ring in his pocket feel thirty times heavier. But that would rock the boat even more, and Daichi isn’t  _ good  _ enough to ask yet. 

Suga finally breaks the disconnect, rushing forward and pulling him into an embrace again, this time standing up. “I know I said I wouldn’t nag you, but I’m really worried, and you look really cold and tired and just, overall, like you feel like shit. Go take a hot shower, and I’ll have dinner ready by the time you’re out? And then we can...talk? Or something?” He proposes these statements by raising the pitch of his voice slightly, indicating them as halfway suggestions. 

“Yeah. That sounds good.” Daichi nods into his neck, kissing the sharp junction between Suga’s jaw and his neck. “Thank you, Kou.” 

Suga squeezes him around the waist sharply, then releases him, herding him towards the bedroom. That’s one thing about Suga that Daichi loves—he never walks on eggshells, really, or pretends like Daichi is too fragile to take criticism, really hard squeezes, and/or gut punches.

Daichi stumbles in, just closing the door to a crack—different than shutting it, that’s not what he did, he just doesn’t want Suga to see him strip and then ask why he’s got a bigass bruise on his lower left ribcage. Combative patients are always hard to explain. He unclips his badge and sets it on the spot on the dresser where it always goes, then carefully unbuttons his light blue uniform shirt and sets it on the dresser, neatly folded. He needs to press it, needs to re-iron where  _ Cpt. Sawamura Daichi, Paramedic  _ is patched on the right breast pocket. 

As he shucks off his trousers and empties his pockets to place the small ring box he was planning on using someday down to his sock drawer for safekeeping, a nasopharyngeal airway falls out of the pocket pouch. Why had he been carrying one of those? He legitimately could not remember. The wrapper is gone, so it isn’t sterile. Daichi just hopes it isn’t biohazardous as he chucks it in the trash. 

Once all his clothes are folded neatly and placed in the right piles for Daichi to deal with later, he moves along at a slow pace into the bathroom, flicking on the lights with a wince. 

He inspects his red badge of courage in the wide mirror. That bruise  _ does _ look pretty nasty as he palpates it, wincing and watching it fail to blanch. It wasn’t really the patient’s fault for being combative; he was scared, just had the cops called on him, was strung out, and was convinced that Daichi was actually his long-lost cousin who supposedly tried to kill him three years ago. It was Daichi’s duty to handle things like that and the poor man needed medical attention. God knows, the cops didn’t do jack shit to help in those situations. A swift kick to Daichi’s ribcage was unexpected but not surprising; it wasn’t the first time he’d been assaulted by an altered patient and it wouldn’t be the last. 

Daichi wasn’t any good at dealing with combative patients and he never would be, though. He was what they called a Calm Down Guy in paramedic school—the one that, despite all other intentions to be soft-spoken and gentle, had his brain reset around a combative patient and ended up just yelling  _ calm down  _ repeatedly. So, he kinda distanced himself, trying a different technique he’d read on the internet for calming the patient down, which just went down  _ swimmingly _ and definitely  _ didn’t  _ cause a flash of internal resentment towards his job as he was wondering whether he might piss blood tonight. And even though Iwaizumi, shadowing him for his paramedicine certs, is also a Calm Down Guy, at least he had the military-quick reflexes and composure to give the patient a ketamine sandwich before he hurt  _ himself _ . As for Daichi, he really hasn’t had any difficulty breathing, despite what Ukai thought, and there’s really nothing he can do if the rib is cracked. Ukai had examined him before he clocked out, of course, and didn’t  _ insist  _ that he should have it checked out, only  _ suggested,  _ so he didn’t. All he could do was wait it out until it faded. 

He’s been waiting out a lot recently. Waiting out Suga’s medical bills, waiting out his shitty credit score, waiting out administrative bullshit that the fire station keeps sending him, waiting out the mistakes the cops make (seriously? Narcan on a hypoglycemic patient? How can you miss that? Sure, the risk of iatrogenic harm is low, but still, you’d think they’d figure it out after making that mistake so many times over), waiting out...well. Waiting out most things. What was he even waiting for? For things to get better? Sure. 

But a lot of this felt like burnout. Burnout after caring for Suga for months, often cranky, tired, and in pain during his recovery, unable to be anything but positive to anyone else, so he’d spit out his pent-up negativity at Daichi. Burnout after detailing with the difficult, stingy Fire Chief Washijo for the last five years. Burnout from covering the cops’ asses all these years, then getting blamed for the mistakes. Burnout after being assaulted by patients during an escalation and not getting paid anything to show for it. Burnout after feeling like he works so hard but does so little to help anything. Never enough, always coming up a little short. 

He’s aware of these feelings and knows some of them are baseless or complicated by stress, lack of sleep, too many hours at the station that he subjects himself to because it’s the beginning of the month and he’s trying to hit his overtime limit, or miscommunication with Suga. But he can only tackle one issue at a time. The rest he’d have to wait out. 

His current issue is showering. He can tackle that one pretty easily. The scalding water defrosts his muscles, like putting frozen chicken under the sink. The steam clears his head slightly. This issue is tackled. 

The next issue is finding some clothes to change into. Another easy fix: sweats and a t-shirt Suga bought for him at a concert a few years ago. Red badges of courage disappear under the comfy clothes, making him appear a little more relaxed but maybe also making the bags under his eyes more prominent, who knows.

A more complicated issue: Suga. But, in some ways, he’s the easiest issue of all. He provides comfort during all of Daichi’s waiting-out periods. Daichi can hear him humming a tune from within the kitchen already. He pushes the bedroom door open from its cracked position to see Suga tending to a pot, the smell of dashi and mirin floating out towards him. Nikujaga. Huh, Daichi didn’t know Suga could make that. 

He turns around upon hearing Daichi approach and smiles. “Lover, try this for me, see if it needs a little more soy sauce.” 

Daichi pads over and takes the spoon of broth Suga holds out for him, fished from the pot floating with potatoes, onions, carrots, beef, and noodles. It’s warm and rich and feels nice in the pit of Daichi’s stomach. “Yum. I don’t think it needs anything changed.” 

“Good, then, we’ll put the drop lid on it.” Suga’s grin gets a little wider as he places the lid down for simmering. “My mom always used to make nikujaga when it snowed. Hopefully, I can imitate hers okay.” 

“It’ll be great. Thank you.” Daichi comes from behind Suga and wraps his arms around his midsection, rocking him slowly along to the rhythm of the melody Suga was humming before. 

Suga plays along easily, leaning his head back into the crook of Daichi’s neck and cementing his hands on Daichi’s. “Tell me about your day. I missed you when you left this morning.” 

“Hm,” Daichi hums, considering. Honestly, he remembered some of it, but had already forgotten most of what  _ really  _ happened. Was that normal? “Well, I got to the station around 5:30. We had nine calls, seven of which were emergent. Lev spilled hot coffee on Yaku when we met them for the fifth call, so that was some free entertainment.” Suga laughs when Daichi chuckles lowly. “I heard Yaku might be getting a promotion, too, so there’s some gossip for you. Takeda-sensei might make him the ER charge nurse.” 

“Oh, really?” Suga murmurs. “Good for him, he deserves it.” He and Suga are pretty good friends—they go to the same gym, not to mention Terushima’s as well. 

Daichi lets out a sigh. “Yeah, so, that was the day. Nothing really...notable, I guess, nothing really all that sad, no one died. Just, y’know. Work.” Combative patients aren’t considered notable in his book. Daichi does  _ not _ want any pity. 

Suga pauses, then says, “These kinds of things build up, I think. Nine calls is more than you usually do, right? And just because the day isn’t supremely sad doesn’t mean it can’t suck.” Suga turns in Daichi’s hold to face him. “You’re allowed to be tired. You’re carrying the whole unit if I understand correctly.” 

Daichi shakes his head. Suga gives him too much credit. “That’s Chief Ukai’s job.” 

“But that doesn’t mean you’re not the one doing the heavy lifting. Literally and figuratively. Speaking of which...” Suga begins steering him towards the couch. “Lay down. Prone.” 

Daichi gives him a long-suffering brow quirk but obeys regardless. Suga climbs on top of him, straddling his back, and his fingers push deeply into the sore muscles around his lumbar spine. 

“Christ,” he exhales blissfully, feeling how tight his back really was. He’s focusing on all the wrong things. “How do you even do that?” 

“My boyfriend throws out his back every three months. I have practice.” Suga whispers tight into Daichi’s ear and keeps going. “This is really bad, though. Worse than usual.” 

“Thanks, I guess?” 

“You’re more than welcome.” 

“Tell me more about— _ ah _ , shit—your day,” Daichi pants, pressing his cheek hard against the couch cushions. His ribs hurt, but Suga can’t know that, he doesn’t feel like explaining. 

“Well. I got up, drank the coffee you left me. It was very delicious.” 

“Good.” 

The fingers press a little harder. “In the morning, we worked on some math, then social studies. Kenji-kun told me with his full chest that Germany was a continent.” 

Daichi turns his head and smirks at him, making his hands pause. “Whaddya mean, is it not?” 

“No, Dai-kun, try again,” he says in his teacher voice, soft but assertive. A hand leaves his back to muss his damp hair placatingly. “Anyway. Then I ate lunch in Asahi’s room.” 

“How’s he doing— _ oh _ , okay, you’re starting again.” Daichi’s old friend from high school went to university with Suga doing artsy-fartsy shit, then ended up pursuing Suga’s field once he graduated. They now work at the same elementary school, with Suga as a first-grade teacher and Asahi as the art teacher. And, contrary to what everyone asks when they hear of this, no, Asahi didn’t introduce Suga to Daichi or vice versa—it was just pure six degrees of separation there. A happy coincidence. 

“He’s fine. Behind on his lesson plans again, but only because he’s working on some project he won’t tell me about.” His fingers press a little harder on Daichi’s lats—frustrated.

“Y’know— _ ah _ —that means he’s working on a portrait.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, he’s like that— _ Christ! _ —probably fell in love with a stranger and now wants to immortalize them in watercolor.” Asahi has an incredible photographic memory, despite not being incredibly studious. He has a knack for faces and visualization of said faces, can see someone once and then re-draw them in all sorts of abstract situations just by the power of extrapolation and the clarity of his own mind’s eye. 

“I wonder who,” Suga hums, then asks, “Okay, this area’s all soft now, want me to go higher?” 

“Yeah, please,” Daichi says, completely forgetting about his ribs until Suga presses a hard knuckle on the edge of the rib that may be cracked. “ _ Ohmygod _ ,” he shrieks like a little girl reflexively.

Suga’s hands immediately fly up. “Woah, that was not a happy expletive, what did I hit?” 

“I, uh. I got in an accident at work and I got a little bruise there. It’s fine, don’t worry.” Daichi grimaces into the couch cushions. Suga’s probably going to stop now and ask him about it. “It’s alright, you can keep going.” 

“No, no, not if I hurt you.” Suga strokes the area lovingly like he’s trying to erase the touches he left behind. He places a quick kiss there. “You want to show me? I think they look cool.” 

Daichi weighs these options in his mind. He could refuse, and since Suga knows he’s slightly upset today, he wouldn’t push it. But it would be more normal for Daichi to show off whatever bumps he’s gotten since Suga’s got a tiny morbid fascination with that kind of thing. 

“Now, it looks bad, but it’s okay, I promise.” Daichi rolls over, grunting slightly, and pulls up his t-shirt. Suga shifts in accordance to straddle his chest now, looking with a furrowed brow. 

“Wow,” Suga whistles. “How’d that happen?” 

“I—um. A patient kicked me today.” Daichi covers his hand over where Suga’s cool fingers are tracing the purplish skin. It felt good. 

Suga’s brow lifts. “Intentionally?” 

“Yeah, but he was...it was a pysch call. Iwaizumi helped.” Daichi sighs and pulls down his t-shirt. “Seriously. It’s okay. It looks a lot worse than it feels.” 

“So, wait, let me get this straight,” Suga says assertively, taking off his glasses and narrowing his eyes scrutinizingly at Daichi. “Fucked up back. Fucked up ribs. Massive circles under your eyes. And those are just the  _ physical  _ problems that I can see. Don’t you want a day off? Don’t you  _ need  _ a day off?” 

Daichi pauses, considering. Suga did have a point. He kinda wants to be able to fall asleep on the couch with his boyfriend in his arms and then not wake up ‘til noon, to spend the day snowed in with Suga since he’d be off work for the weather. Maybe it would be nice to recharge. Maybe they didn’t need  _ him _ at the station specifically. 

He finally opens his mouth to say, “Well, it’d be kindof short notice to switch my shift right now.” 

“But you could make it work, right?” Suga asks. “Doesn’t Kuroo owe you a switched shift? Maybe even two or three?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, he does owe me, and he’s got tomorrow off.” It looks more and more appealing by the minute. 

“Cool, then, could you ask him to switch with you?” 

“I…” Daichi winces. “Man. Okay, sure, screw it.” 

“Woo!” Suga whoops to no one in particular. “I’ve got Captain Sawamura all to myself tomorrow!” 

Daichi reaches and pulls him down to his chest, kissing him between chuckles. He pulls out his phone from his sweatpants pocket.

_ Daichi:  _ **_Hey what’s the chance you could cover for me tomorrow_ **

_ Kuroo:  _ **_I mean_ **

_ Kuroo:  _ **_Sure ig_ **

_ Daichi:  _ **_?_ **

_ Kuroo:  _ **_Kenmas coming down from tokyo tmr_ **

_ Kuroo:  _ **_It’s fine tho he probably doesn’t want to do anything anyway I can go in_ **

“Shit,” Daichi murmurs. “Kenma’s visiting. I can’t ask him to give that up.” 

Suga’s excited face falls into disappointment immediately. “You’re right, that would be pretty unfair.” 

_ Daichi:  _ **_Oh I didn’t know that. Don’t worry about it then have fun_ **

“I’m so sorry, babe,” Daichi says, brushing Suga’s hair back and then holding him a little closer. “Next time, I swear.” 

“Next time,” Suga hums. “Are you sure you’ll be okay tomorrow? I’m worried.” 

“No, no,” Daichi emphasizes. “No, I’ve been hurt way worse before and still done full-out. We might only have light duty tomorrow anyway.” 

“That would be good.” Suga picks at the neck of Daichi’s t-shirt, then presses his cheek into Daichi’s collarbone. “Can I ask you a question?” 

“Hm?” 

“Would you have felt guilty if you didn’t go into work? Would you have even been able to enjoy a day off?” 

Daichi hesitates before he answers, compiling his thoughts. Suga  _ knows  _ the answer to this question. “I would have loved being with you all day. But, yeah, I would’ve felt bad for taking a day off. I always do. I mean, if Chief is  _ giving _ me the day off, then that’s different, but otherwise, um. Yeah.” 

“Do you think Kuroo feels bad about taking a day off?” 

This is a trick question. “No. He probably doesn’t. But he’s only my lieutenant. He doesn’t have the responsibility I do, and even if he did, he wouldn’t quite take it seriously.” 

“But...don’t you think you should be able to  _ like  _ days off?” 

“Probably.” 

“And you just don’t?” 

Daichi shifts slightly, feeling uncomfortable with the way this conversation is going. “Well, it’s more complex than that. You know that. I’ve always been kinda type-A about the work thing, but work is really...all I know. Outside of you.” 

Suga taps him on the chest gently. “Okay. I just don’t want you working yourself into the  _ grave _ . That’s all.” 

Daichi knows that isn’t all. Daichi knows Suga probably feels like he’s putting work ahead of him. 

“Do you...ever feel like I put work before you?” 

“Um.” Suga’s eyes pop out. They’ve never had this conversation. “I mean, sometimes. But I also get that your job is important to you, and that it’s important, period. I also know that you’re trying hard for overtime to help with my bills, which…” Suga looks away, then looks back. “Thank you. For that. I haven’t won the lottery yet, so I need your help. So try not to worry about that aspect.” 

Daichi holds him even tighter. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” Suga smiles, looking somewhat hopeful. “Asahi brought me something interesting during lunch today. I wanted to surprise you with it later, but I think I should show it to you now.” 

Daichi perks up a little. “Oh?” 

“Yeah.” Suga peels himself out of Daichi’s hold and rolls off the couch, returning with a manila envelope. “Check this out.” 

He unfurls a sketch from the envelope, loosely highlighted with watercolor. It’s a coffee shop—the one by the university campus, where Daichi and Suga first met. 

“I was telling him about how we met, and he made this up just...speculatively. But I thought it was funny, how accurate it was.” 

Daichi and Suga sit opposite one another in a booth, with Daichi leaning all the way forward with his elbows on the countertop and Suga with his head tucked slightly in a book. There’s a single cup of coffee between them, steaming with delicate lines of graphite. 

Their expressions are exactly as Daichi remembers them, with Suga’s beautiful rounded cheeks and sly smirk and Daichi grinning like the dorkiest bastard on the planet. Damn you, Asahi, Daichi’s starting to want to cry. 

Suga nudges Daichi’s shoulder. “I didn’t really have my priorities straight. You were flirting with me and I kept my eyes in the book. I even quoted it to you, like an ass, because I couldn’t take a compliment while I was in college.” 

“I remember. I didn’t really know what to say to you—I had only gone in the coffee shop ‘cos I was on duty and I needed to pee—but I thought you were...I thought you were stunning. And I knew you didn’t want to be bothered, but I said something anyway, because I couldn’t live with myself if I had just let you go,” Daichi says, remembering, then grins at College Student Suga’s stubbornness. “I called you beautiful, and then you quoted your book.” 

“‘Because there is no other way of guarding oneself from flatterers except letting men understand that to tell you the truth does not offend you; but when every one may tell you the truth, respect for you abates,’” Suga supplies, moving through each syllable slowly and precisely to make every word count. “...is what I said. Chapter twenty-three,  _ The Prince, _ Nicolo Machiavelli. Required reading for my polisci course and weapon of choice to deflect a compliment. Real sexy of me to do.” 

“I was confused as hell,” Daichi laughs. “But then I knew you were brilliant, too.  _ Way  _ outta my league.” 

Suga smiles softly and sidles up closer to Daichi, crossing their ankles together. “We look so young here. It’s funny.” 

“Yeah, we changed. A lot changed,” Daichi hums, thinking. 

“That was what I was thinking.” Suga traces the edges of the sketch of Daichi, lingering on the outline of his hips for comedic effect. “But, um. What changed, exactly?” Daichi looks away from the drawing to look at Suga, searching through his expression. Melancholy. “I mean, other than the obvious things, like moving in together or me getting a job or you getting promoted or...or the accident,” Suga clarifies. “What changed?” 

He’s calling Daichi out. He’s doing it. Fuck. 

Daichi rests his hand on Suga’s knee and squeezes lightly where the bony edges point out of his fair skin. “I’ve always kinda pinned my worth on how hard I’m working. I assume you knew that.”

“Okay. I mean, I figured, but it’s clarifying to hear you actually say that.” 

“Yeah. And, uh. I…” Daichi pauses. 

_ Can he say this? _

“I really want to be someone...” he swallows before he continues, “...that’s worthy of marrying you. And that starts with paying the bills.”

Suga’s eyes get wide and his bottom lip tucks in.

Daichi keeps going. What does he have to lose now? He might as well admit to burnout, too. “And I realize that one day off won’t impact that  _ too _ much, but I sometimes—I know this is irrational, but I sometimes feel like if I take a break, I’ll never be able to restart. Like, I don’t want to be able to sit back and suddenly have the time to feel like I hate my job. That won’t make me a good Captain, and it sure as hell won’t make me good husband material. So I...keep moving. I guess.” 

“Daichi…” Suga turns and bounces his forehead on Daichi’s shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me it was because of the marriage thing? Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling that way about work, too?” 

“Because I thought I needed to fix these issues on my own, and I didn’t want you feeling like you were somehow at fault.” 

Suga waves his hands. “Okay, wait, marriage thing first. You can ask me at any time and I’ll say yes. I’ve always been yours, you’ve always been mine. Got it?” 

Daichi opens his mouth, closes it, and opens it again. It felt really good to hear that, though he knew it was probably true already. “Got it. The only reason I haven’t asked yet is because I’m trying to get my own shit together. It won’t be long now, I promise.” 

“Take as much time as you need. I’ll be here, always, until you want me gone, and even then, I’ll hang around a little longer.” Suga rubs his shoulder. “Okay, next, work. Ukai told me  _ months  _ ago that you were on the road to burnout. Are we there yet?” 

Daichi almost flinches. He assumes that was in confidence. “Chief told you that?” 

Suga is past explanation or sugarcoating—straight facts, to the point. “Mmhm. He wanted to know if I’d support you when things got rough. Now might be the time. What do you need?” 

Suga’s being abrupt, but this is just how he is. “Wh—um. I mean, not really  _ anything _ , you being here is more than enough.” Daichi racks his brain with something Suga could do, since a useless-feeling Suga is an unhappy Suga. “Um. Maybe I’m kinda tired. Bed early tonight?” 

“Absolutely.” 

“Okay. And, uh. I dunno, there’s really nothing you  _ can  _ do, Sugs. I’m, y’know. Not seeing the forest because of all the damn trees in the way.” Daichi sighs heavily. “I don’t even know if I totally understand what’s going on myself. I—hm.” Daichi stops himself before he exposes a surprise. 

“You can tell me anything,” Suga insists softly. “I’ll swear myself to secrecy, never bring it up again, whatever you like. Just don’t hold your words around me.” 

“Okay.” Daichi takes a breath and bumps his shoulder against Suga’s, smiling slightly. “I’ve been saving up for a present for you with the money that doesn’t go towards bills. I’m working on it.” 

“Daichi…” Suga smiles widely. “You selfless bastard. What are you getting me?” 

“Shush. It’s a surprise,” Daichi hums. 

They were plane tickets to Paris, actually, along with this Airbnb he was looking at. It...wasn’t cheap, but he wanted to give Suga a really nice time. They’d go for their wedding, of course, just like Suga had always fantasized about. They’d see the Eiffel Tower and walk around the Arc de Triomphe and go to the Louvre and Versailles and the Seine and all the other cool places Daichi couldn’t pronounce. He just wanted to work hard and do something right for Suga. He  _ deserved  _ it. These Parisian fantasies are how they made it through Suga’s recovery, and Daichi  _ had  _ to make it good, and he  _ had  _ to deliver it right along with the engagement. Once he got the money together, he’d take Suga to that fancy French restaurant in Ichibancho that needed reservations two weeks in advance. There’d be champagne. Daichi would wear a blazer. And then, right before dessert, he’d get down on one knee and give Suga the ring that’s in his sock drawer. It’d be romantic, classy, and seamless—three things Daichi loves. 

“I can hear your gears turning,” Suga hums. “Vrrm, vrrm, Daichi’s thinking, and he’s smiling, too.” 

Daichi turns Suga’s cheek with the back of his hand to kiss it, then lingers there, lips creating a small vacuum as he thinks a little harder. 

_ What if he just proposed now? Wouldn’t that be the best show of devotion Daichi could share? An  _ **_absolute_ ** _ declaration of devotion?  _

Suga presses at Daichi’s neck when he lingers on his cheek a little too long, looking to kiss Daichi’s cheek in accordance. Daichi submits, still thinking. 

Could he? Could he do that? It would kinda be lame—

“Sawamura,” Suga states sharply, pulling away. 

“Yes?” Daichi immediately snaps back to reality. 

“You might have reserves about getting engaged right now because you feel like you’re not good enough for me for some Godforsaken reason. I also know you’re probably planning some sort of grand affair where you propose. But, I don’t. I’m not. You can still do your grand affair, but I need to know. I love you. Marry me.” 

Daichi just has to sit there, mouth gawking open. 

Suga issue: solved(?). 

“Um? Yeah. Yeah, Kou, I’ll do that, yeah,” Daichi murmurs, in a state of shock. 

“Great.” Suga plants an average-sized kiss on his lips, one that he’d give at any old time despite what just happened. “Okay. Whew, that felt good. Want dinner now?” 

“S-Sure,” Daichi says, but by the time the words leave his mouth, Suga’s up and gone to the kitchen. 

“Stay where you are, this house is now chez Suga,” he sings back, despite the kitchen only being five meters away. He runs back immediately, holding a steaming chunk of potato with chopsticks out towards Daichi’s face. “Hors d'oeuvres!”

And if Daichi has to wipe a few tears away from his tired eyes as he chews his potato and listens to his ridiculous, ethereal fiance screw around the kitchen, then that’s nobody’s business but his. 

* * *

**_Chief, 2:07 AM_ **

_ Forgot 2 tell u. Running skeleton crew tomorrow. Enjoy ur day off.  _

**Author's Note:**

>  _fun facts_ :  
> \- yes, the man in asahi's portraits IS nishinoya. does asahi know his name? fuck no  
> \- ukai has the worst text etiquette in the universe  
> \- 1/4 of EMS workers in the US experience a career-ending back injury within the first four years on the job  
> \- in a 2019 US study, more than 60% of EMS workers agreed or strongly agreed with the statement "I feel burned out in my EMS work." yeah.  
> \- but did daichi sleep in til noon during his and suga's snow day? yes he did. good job daichi i love you i'm so proud of you
> 
> next in this series: um, undecided, to be completely honest, but it'll either be the first of the iwaoi adoption fic or the tsukki & yamaguchi ER intern fic as i had said before. it might also be an asanoya fic...we'll see lol! if you have any suggestions of particular characters you'd like to see more of, please let me know, or also, like...what you ate for breakfast. i'm extremely curious. thank you for reading!! <3


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